


The Inquisitor's Crush

by OrangeTabby



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Archery, Books, F/F, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, Magic, Mild Smut, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 18:05:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19234345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeTabby/pseuds/OrangeTabby
Summary: Inquisitor Lucy Trevelyan is a scholar, not a fighter. She admires the stalwart and beautiful Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast from afar, an attraction that is somewhat hindered by the fact Cassandra apparently hates her. Is Lucy’s crush fated to remain unrequited, or is there more to the situation than meets the eye?Written for the Secret Tomes of Thedas 2019 gift exchange.





	The Inquisitor's Crush

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mytha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mytha/gifts).



I.

 

“You’re getting distracted again Lu.”

Inquisitor Lucy Trevelyan lowered her bow and scowled at Sera. “I’m not distracted at all.”

“Really?” said Sera, nibbling delicately on a cookie. “Then when did Leliana get here?”

Lucy looked wildly around. Leliana was leaning on the fence of the training yard, near where Sera was perched. “Ah. Good morning Leliana.”

“Good morning Inquisitor.” Leliana almost but didn’t quite smile. “Enjoying the view?”

Lucy very deliberately did not look towards where Cassandra was busily eviscerating a training dummy across the training yard. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

Sera snorted and shifted her gaze pointedly towards the Seeker before focusing back on Lucy. “Yes, you do.”

Lucy groaned. “Is it that obvious?”

Sera gesticulated with her cookie. “I can see why. Cassandra is well fit. Scary, but well fit.”

Leliana’s lips twitched upwards. “Inquisitor, you must learn to focus past your distractions. You would have learned that in your mage training, you need to apply that to archery also.”

“You are right. Of course you are right.” Lucy drew upon her magic as she nocked an arrow and focused on the target. The faint music of the Fade sounded in her head, like a chantry sister in a distant room singing the Chant of Light, or music drifting up from the tavern when she was in her quarters. Dorian claimed the Fade music could be deafening, but that was probably a sign of the relative strengths of their magic. She could barely light a candle but Dorian could set a room aflame.

Sera whistled low, under her breath. “Don’t look now, Lulu, but Cass is bending down to retrieve her sword from the ground.”

Lucy twitched as she shot the bow and the arrow whizzed past the target and lodged in a nearby tree. “Shit,” she muttered as her magic fizzled away. She took advantage of the situation to sneak a glance at Cassandra. The dark-haired woman was hitting her dummy even harder.

“Gotcha,” said Sera. “You should just talk to the Seeker about your crush. All this pining is just regrettable.”

“She hates me, Sera.”

“She doesn’t hate you, Inquisitor,” said Leliana.

Lucy grimaced and pushed some strands of errant pale brown hair off her face. “Yes, she does. She trains so hard and is always perfect and beautiful and gets this little smile when she eviscerates a demon. I’m just average. A terrible mage. I’d rather be in the library than in the battlefield.”

Sera shoved an entire cookie into her mouth before speaking. “Okay she possibly hates you a little bit.” Her voice was muffled.

Leliana made a quelling motion with her hand. “Hush Sera. Cassandra can speak for herself, of course, but I know that she admires that you are willing to undertake activities for the Inquisition that are far outside the bounds of your previous experiences.”

Lucy snorted. “You mean I’m willing to leave the library in order to hide behind my companions in battle so I can close rifts and awkwardly talk to world leaders?”

“Precisely. We all have our strengths. There is no shame in being a scholar more than a warrior, and you are one of the brightest minds in the Inquisition. Cassandra values honesty, you should speak up about your attraction to her.”

Lucy took a deep breath and aimed her bow again.

“What are you doing Inquisitor?” said Cassandra’s voice. “Mages do not usually partake in archery.”

“Eep,” said Lucy, loosing another wild shot. She closed her eyes briefly to calm herself, then stood up straight. “Sorry Seeker, you startled me.”

“She’s a shit mage, so we’re teaching her to be useful,” said Sera, grinning broadly.

“Thank you, Sera,” said Lucy, feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassed heat. She drew on her trickle of magic again and ignored the other women. Without thinking she nocked the arrow and loosed, hitting squarely in the middle of the target.

“Excellent,” said Leliana. “That was a considerable improvement. Just keep your elbow steadier next time.”

Lucy’s hair was flopping over her face again. It did tend to get everywhere if not properly restrained, and she blew the strands away. “Huh. So the trick is to not think about it?”

“Yeah pretty much,” said Sera. “I like to think about tits when I use my bow. Nice Qunari jubbly ones.” She sighed happily and got a faraway look in her eyes.

“This is most irregular,” said Cassandra, ignoring Sera and focusing her steely gaze on Lucy.

Lucy resisted the urge to shuffle her feet like an Apprentice getting lectured by the First Enchanter. She met Cassandra’s eyes calmly. The Seeker was taller than her, but only just. “You’ve seen me in the field, Cassandra. I’m a liability with only my magic.”

The Seeker made a sceptical noise. “You should practice with your magic to improve.”

“No amount of practice would make me strong enough to be a battlemage. I’m tired of relying on others to defend me when we close rifts. I don’t want you… er, anyone to get hurt.”

“Oh stop being such a grouch, Cassandra,” said Leliana lightly. “You of all people should approve of the Inquisitor wanting to better her skills with weaponry.” 

Cassandra gave a grunt, then abruptly strode away. Lucy sighed and focused back on her target.

 

***

 

Lace Harding held up a book and grinned. The cover illustration featured a scantily clad human woman in the arms of a shirtless man wearing templar armour on his lower half. “Ohh _The Blue Lady of Amaranthine_ , I’ll to take this one with me to the Emprise. I hear the author downplayed the forbidden love aspect in favour of horrifyingly slavish descriptions of their intimate exploits. It’ll be good for a laugh with the other scouts.”

Lucy leaned her forehead against the bookcase and gave a piteous groan. “Andraste’s tits, Lace. Don’t remind me of our upcoming excursion. If I never hear the words ‘field duty’ again in my life I’ll be a happy woman.”

Dorian looked up from his book. “We’ll be there to back you up, Lucy my dear. Those Red Templars won’t stand a chance.”

Lucy huffed and picked a book out of the shelf at random. “I’d rather sit naked in the snow and read…” she paused and looked at the title embossed in gold leaf on the spine, “… _Essays on Ferelden Tax Law_ than put you all at risk.”

Lace reached up and patted her shoulder consolingly. “You’ve been practicing for combat. I saw you in the practice yard this morning.”

“Leliana says my archery skills are tolerable. As soon as I think too much about it I miss though.”

Dorian pursed his lips. “We need to find a way to combine your magic with your archery. Perhaps setting a flame on each arrowhead.”

“I’m about as good at aiming with my magic as I am at aiming with my arrows. I don’t want to set any of my companions on fire. Although that could keep us warm in the Emprise.”

Dorian patted his perfectly coiffured hair and shot Lucy a look of concern. “Setting us on fire could prove problematic, yes.”

Lace poked Lucy gently on the arm. “Where’s that novel you like with all the ladies who love other ladies? Charter was asking for it, I said I’d find it for her.”

“ _The Velvet Harbinger_? I’ll have a look.”

Lucy went to one of the far bookcases and found the book, which had a tasteful cover featuring two beautifully dressed Orlesian noblewomen in a passionate embrace. She was thumbing through the pages and smiling fondly when she re-joined her friends. She jumped slightly as she looked up and realised Cassandra was there, talking to Dorian and looking extremely cornered.

“Hello Seeker,” said Lucy, desperately pretending that her knees hadn’t gone wobbly at the sight of the glorious dark-haired woman.

“Inquisitor,” Cassandra said formally. “You are reading?”

Guilt flooded her. “I’ll be heading to a meeting with my Advisors shortly. I was just taking a few moments to find some reading material for our trip to the Emprise du Lion.”

“Join us, Seeker,” said Dorian. “Have you read _The Velvet Harbinger_? Lucy here claims it is delightful, though it’s not to my taste. Too many heaving bosoms.”

“You just won’t let us forget _The Knight-Captain’s Pirate Lover_. Not a bosom in sight.” Harding rolled her eyes.

Cassandra’s cheeks pinked. “I have not read _The Velvet Harbinger_ ,” she said stiffly.

Lucy got the distinct impression the Seeker was lying. “What sort of books do you like?” she said, trying to put Cassandra at her ease. “I can recommend all kinds. _Journey to the Anderfels_ if you like adventure stories, or _Seeking the Pearl: Oyster Preparation for the Moderately Experienced_ if you enjoy cookbooks? _Fork Me: A Guide to Orlesian Etiquette_ is very popular too.”

Cassandra’s cheeks went even pinker, and she was eyeing _The Velvet Harbinger_ like it was a rabid nug someone had let into the library. “I have no time for such frivolities during our preparation for the Emprise du Lion.”

Lucy took a moment to admire Cassandra’s flawless pronunciation of the Orlesian name before being overwhelmed with shame over her own shortcomings. “Well,” she muttered, “I’ll see you at the meeting then.”

She handed the book to Lace then walked stiffly over to a bookcase across the room, pretending to be absorbed in choosing a tome to read.

Dorian strolled over and patted Lucy fondly on the arm. “Don’t worry, she’s like that with everyone. I think she has more affection for you than most.”

Lucy made a dubious noise. “She hates me, Dorian. Sera agrees.”

“Sera considers that throwing jars filled with angry bees is a good idea, I’d hardly take her opinion as valid. The dear Seeker is just awkward, I rather think she has a crush on you, believe me.”

 

II.

 

The Emprise du Lion was as cold as Lucy had been expecting. Dagna, bless her heart, had produced a pair of fingerless archery gloves for Lucy to wear that had warming runes encased into the leather. She could still cast magic as needed since her hands weren’t completely covered, but the runes ensured they stayed warm.

“Inquisitor,” hissed Cassandra.

Lucy snapped back to attention. “Seeker?” she replied politely, pretending her mind hadn’t been wandering.  

“As I was saying,” said the Nevarran woman, “we are almost at the quarry. You need to be on guard for both Red Templars and civilians and be on the lookout for any materials relating to Samson.”

“I was listening to the same briefing as you,” Lucy said more sharply than usual. “I know what to expect. Lace was very thorough in her overview of the situation.”

Lucy kicked her heels into her horse, spurring her forward to catch up with Varric and Dorian. She had enough on her mind without being viscerally reminded of what a failure she was in the eyes of the woman she was regrettably infatuated with.

“The Knight-Captain is forbidden from even seeing the Pirate King,” Dorian was saying. “After they freed the royal Mabari from the clutches of the evil swamp witch and everything. It’s a great tragedy.”

“I’ve read plenty of that genre as research,” said Varric. “It’s less tragedy and more what we in the business call a ‘cockfest’.”

“There is nothing wrong with a cockfest,” said Dorian primly. “Oh hello Lucy. Are you finished getting berated by our lovely Seeker?”

Lucy sighed. “That depends. If you are discussing anything other than the mission, then I’m sure she’ll think I’m not focusing enough.”

“She’s worried you’ll get hurt,” said Varric sagely.

“And by worried I’ll get hurt, you mean she’s worried I’ll get the rest of you hurt by being bad at combat.”

“She cares about you Lucy,” said Dorian, with unusual patience. He yelped as an arrow sailed over his head. Lucy felt the entropic magic emanate from him as he seized his magic and she did the same. “Heads up, you’re about to get a chance to prove yourself.”

 

Several hours later, Lucy stood on a rickety wooden platform, clutching her bow. The weapon’s name was The Bane of Red Crossing, and this still surprised Lucy because she’d never considered herself the sort of person who’d wield a weapon that had a name. She’d even found the bow after solving a series of puzzles on the Storm Coast which revealed its location. If there was anything she was far more skilled at than combat, it was solving puzzles.

They’d already freed several wagon loads of civilians from Red Templar hands, courtesy of Varric’s skill in picking locks. He claimed he’d learned solely because he kept getting locked out of his accommodation in Kirkwall. Lucy was dubious about the veracity of his claim, but made a mental note to get him to teach her the skill. Someone had locked people from the local village into cages atop the wagons, to be freed as needed to use as slave labour in the quarry. Judging by the number of bodies in various stages of decay in the area, labouring in the quarry was a short-term occupation.

The quarry had been what Lucy might have described in her youth as a ‘clusterfuck’. She might not have said the word aloud for fear of attracting the wrath of the Senior Enchanters, but she would definitely have thought it. Was, in fact, thinking it about the quarry.

She’d seen Cassandra angry before. Most people had at some stage. Lucy greatly admired many things about her, but keeping her temper was not something the warrior was known for. As they progressed deeper into the quarry, Cassandra had progressed from angry through to fuming, skimming past furious and right on to livid. She barely paused as she charged into the newest section of the quarry.

Lucy positioned herself on the platform she’d stopped on and nocked an arrow as Cassandra drew the attention of the putrid former templars. She drew upon her magic and sent a trickle of fire into the arrowhead, igniting it as she loosed the arrow. She still got a jolt of satisfaction whenever she meaningfully contributed to combat. As she methodically loosed her arrows, more and more Red Templars flooded into this part of the quarry.

“Shit,” muttered Varric from beside her. He was sweating as he frantically fired Bianca into the crowd of attackers. “We’re in trouble, Freckles. The Seeker is getting mobbed.”

Lucy paused and looked around, ignoring the urge to sigh over the reminder of the prodigious amount of freckles scattered over her face. Dorian had advanced nearer to Cassandra and was throwing barriers over her as fast he was able. A Red Templar Horror came running into the melee, crushing several of its comrades as it did so.

“I need to get closer,” Lucy muttered. “Make better use of my magic.”

She jumped down off the platform. Varric did the same thing and peeled off to the side. Lucy desperately focused her efforts on the creatures directly attacking Cassandra.

She sent arrows and little gouts of fire straight into the pack, and between her efforts and Cassandra’s skill with a blade, the numbers were thinning. Lucy’s attention was drawn to the side and relief at their efforts faded. A Red Templar Horror, huge and pestilent, came wading into the fray. Lucy looked around to call for help but Varric and Dorian were now busy with a pack of Red Templar Shadows that were dipping in and out of sight, their crystalline arms stiff and jagged.

As she ran closer, she could see the mangled pustules of flesh bursting out from the armour of the Horror. Cassandra was almost overwhelmed again, blood and shards of red lyrium covering her armour. Lucy drew upon as much power as she could.

_We can save her with just a little blood_ , hissed a voice into her mind. _Give me a little blood and I’ll show you everything you need to be the most powerful mage in the Inquisition_.

A demon, Lucy realised. No demons had bothered trying to bargain with her since her Harrowing. It actually cheered her. Drawing the attention of a demon meant she was holding more power than usual.

Ignoring the demon as she’d been taught, she focused with all her might on the Horror. Putting her hand on the back of its armour, she sent all her magic into one giant flame. Well, giant by her standards. It did the job though because the metal around the creature turned red hot and Lucy snatched her hand away. It roared as its attention was diverted away from the Seeker and on to her, and it swung at her, connecting with her face in a shattering of brittle lyrium and squelching of fetid body fluids.

Pain bloomed across her cheek and jaw, quickly followed by heat then numbness. She spat out a mouthful of blood.

“YES HERE,” shouted Lucy as she scrabbled backwards away from it. “OVER HERE YOU BIG BASTARD.”

She could smell burning flesh from inside its hot armour, overriding even the ozone stink of the red lyrium that pervaded the quarry. Lucy readied her bow again, deliberately not concentrating on what she was doing, instead focusing on the war cry Cassandra gave from behind the beast.

She shot an arrow perfectly through the creature’s eye.

“What?” she blurted, looking at her bow in astonishment.

The Horror tipped forward and fell to the ground in a shattering of noisome flesh and red lyrium. Behind it, surrounded by piles of bodies, in the suddenly quiet quarry, Lucy saw Cassandra fall to her knees then sideways.

Lucy spat another mouthful of blood onto the ground and then crawled over to where Cassandra lay limp and bleeding.

“No no no,” whispered Lucy, gathering Cassandra up into her arms. She tugged the Seeker’s helmet off to check for injuries. Her own head felt muzzy, but she focused on the other woman. Lucy rummaged in her belt pouch, giving a small “Hah!” as she found the half bottle of healing potion she had been saving for emergencies. She tipped a dribble into Cassandra’s mouth, relieved when she instinctively swallowed it.

“Freckles, you look like shit,” said Varric’s voice from somewhere beside her.

Lucy ignored him, alternately focused on dribbling the potion into Cassandra’s mouth and smoothing her blood-damp hair off her forehead. “Come on, wake up,” she whispered.

Cassandra slowly opened her eyes, gazing blearily at Lucy. She gasped and sat up. “Lucy, you are injured.” She winced and put her hand up to her head. “As am I, it appears.”

Lucy blinked slowly at Cassandra, relieved beyond measure that the other woman was conscious but feeling herself unable to speak. Or think. The world seemed oddly coated with a greasy film, like she was watching life through scum-coated water.

Someone scooped her up into strong arms. “You know, my dear,” said Dorian’s voice, “if only I were a sexually repressed Knight-Captain and you were a strapping young male pirate, carrying you like this would be terribly romantic.”

“Up you get, Seeker,” said Varric’s voice.

“Are there any more potions for the Inquisitor?” Cassandra’s voice sounded stronger and Lucy was glad.

“She gave you the last one,” Varric replied. “We’ll have to hope Harding has got the new camp site organised with fresh supplies.”

Lucy managed to turn her head and focus on Cassandra, who had planted herself in front of Lucy and Dorian.

“I saw you take on that beast.” Even through the mist in Lucy’s head Cassandra sounded angry. “That was unconscionably dangerous. And then giving me the last healing potion? You could have died from your own injuries.”

Lucy slowly licked her lips then found her voice. “I couldn’t lose you.” She paused and shut her eyes briefly. “I… we… ah, the Inquisition needs you.”

Cassandra frowned fiercely and raised her voice. “I am expendable. You are not.”

“It was going to kill you.” To her shame, Lucy felt a tear slip out of her eye and land on Dorian’s arm. His hold on her tightened.

“You cannot sacrifice yourself and let Corypheus win all because you have romantic feelings for me. I have noticed the flirting, Inquisitor.”

Lucy winced. She felt her cheeks heat. “I never said… about… feelings.”

“I am not a stupid woman, Inquisitor.”

“Well now,” interrupted Dorian with false cheerfulness. “Now that things are dreadfully awkward, and the Inquisitor is still horribly injured, shall we go back to camp?”

Lucy let the darkness take her.

 

III.

 

Lace Harding had left the nearest camp well stocked with healing potions. Lucy felt considerably better after two full potions and a bucketful of icy water from the nearest stream tipped over her head from Varric in lieu of bathing facilities to remove the blood and gore of battle. One of those experiences was more enjoyable than the other. She had a set of spare warm clothes in the saddlebag that wasn’t bulging with books and so sat by the campfire feeling relatively human again.

Cassandra sat nearby, shooting Lucy what the Inquisitor interpreted as regretful looks. They may have just been annoyance at Varric though, who as today’s nominated post-combat water dunker was enjoying the job a little too much.

One of the Scouts had made a ram stew, so they even had hot food. The Scout must have been Ferelden, as the stew had a greyish tinge and no seasoning. Dorian had faked a swoon of horror at the first spoonful, but Lucy didn’t hate it too much. It was hot and had floury lumps of what might charitably called dumplings floating in it, which were filling. Cassandra was eating with gusto. Apparently Nevarran cuisine wasn’t known for its flavour either.

Lucy sighed into her stew, her breath clouding white in the freezing air. Cassandra knew of her interest, and considered it, what? Unprofessional? And she thought Lucy had been flirting? Lucy didn’t think her awkward attempts at talking to Cassandra counted as conversation, let alone flirting.

The Seeker stood up abruptly. “There are only two spare tents,” she announced. “The Inquisitor and I shall share. Varric and Dorian, you are together.”

Varric groaned dramatically. “Why do I have to share with Dorian? He kicks in his sleep.”

Dorian puffed up indignantly. “I would thank you not to cast aspersions upon my character.”

“Yeah, but Sparkler, it’s the truth,” Varric said, waving his stew spoon around for emphasis. “There aren’t any aspersions.”

“You’ll be fine Varric,” said Lucy soothingly. Inside, she was in turmoil. Sharing a tent as a pair was standard, of course. She’d shared with most of her companions on their travels and it was fine. Everyone stayed in their own bedrolls, politely didn’t mention any nocturnal noises and kept to their own side of the tent. Except the Iron Bull, who liked to cuddle.

Sharing with the woman she had romantic feelings for had been fine when those feelings were unacknowledged. But now? Now it was awkward.

After finishing her meal she bid the men a goodnight and scurried into the designated tent. Lucy kept all her clothes on as the inside of the tent was freezing. She lay on her bedroll and covered herself with the blankets, turning her back on where Cassandra would sleep and shutting her eyes.

She kept her eyes resolutely shut as the Seeker came in and lay down on her own bedroll. Even after a long and exhausting day, sleep didn’t come.

“Inquisitor.” Cassandra’s voice shattered the silence.

“Yes, Cassandra?” said Lucy quietly, staying in the same position, but opening her eyes.

Cassandra lowered her voice to match Lucy’s volume. “Did you have anyone… special to you before you joined the Inquisition?”

Lucy huffed a long breath out. This was not what she expected to be conversing about. “There was someone in Ostwick. Another mage. She… she was killed when the Circle fell.” Lucy closed her eyes to stop the prickle of tears. She still missed Emilie. The pain was far less sharp than it had been, but she still missed her tenderness and friendship. “That’s why I was so determined to attend the delegation of mages at the Conclave. So many meaningless deaths, it had to stop.”

She felt Cassandra’s warm hand squeeze her shoulder in sympathy. “I am sorry, Inquisitor. Lucy. She must have been very special to win your regard.”

Lucy huffed a laugh. “I thought so, though she always denied it. She was a healer and always wanted to help people.” She stopped and took a breath. “What about you? Was there someone special in your life?”

There was a long pause, and it embarrassed Lucy that she’d asked. Was that too personal? But Cassandra had started the conversation.

“I lost someone at the Conclave. His name was Regalyan, and he was a healer too. We hadn’t been involved in some time, but still, he had been an important part of my life.”

Was this a way of saying she doesn’t see women in a romantic light?

“He must also have been very special to win your regard,” Lucy said softly.

“You should know though…” Cassandra cleared her throat. “You should know that it doesn’t matter to me if someone special is a man or a woman. It is the qualities in their heart that matter, nothing else.”

Lucy’s heart did a flip flop in her chest. “Ahh,” she said.

There was a lengthy silence and Lucy hardly dared breathe.

“Goodnight Lucy,” said Cassandra eventually.

“Goodnight Cassandra.”

Sleep finally came despite Lucy’s racing heart.

 

She awoke during the night, shivering under her blankets. It felt like they weren’t doing anything to keep away the frigid chill. She sat up, trying to see in the dim light if she’d accidently discarded any bedding she could make use of.

“Inq…” Cassandra said sleepily. “…Lucy. Are you well?”

Lucy wrapped her arms around herself, trying to stop her teeth chattering. “Just a little cold.”

The Seeker huffed in apparent exasperation. “You are being foolish. Let us share blankets to warm you up.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Cassandra’s voice softened. “You could never make me uncomfortable.”

“It’s a shame Bull isn’t here with us. He’s always so warm and cuddly.”

Cassandra shuffled over and pressed herself against Lucy’s back, adjusting the double covering of blankets so it was over them both. “I do not partake of his embraces.”

“You’re missing out.” Lucy felt Cassandra stiffen a little behind her. “It’s not, ah, a sex thing. I’m not attracted to men in that way. But he’s so large and snuggly, and he always smells like cinnamon and elfroot.”

“I cannot hope to live up to such a paragon.” There was a touch of laughter in Cassandra’s voice and she relaxed again.

“This is nice too,” said Lucy hurriedly. “You are soft and warm, and always smell like armour polish.”

“You like that I smell like armour polish?” There was a strange note on the Seeker’s voice that Lucy was too sleepy to discover.

“Mmm yes, you smell so lovely,” said Lucy, as she drifted into comfortable warmth.

She dozed for a time, unwilling to go back to sleep. She wanted to enjoy this closeness, even if her feelings towards Cassandra ever came to any fruition.

“Lucy. Are you still awake?”

“No, I’m asleep,” murmured Lucy.

Cassandra huffed a breath against the back of Lucy’s head. “You are mocking me.”

“I’m not mocking you, I’m warm and comfortable, so I must be asleep.”

There was a lengthy pause. Lucy listened to Cassandra’s even breathing.

“You cannot court me,” the Seeker said suddenly. “If that’s your intention. It is impossible.”

Lucy rolled over to face Cassandra, groaning under her breath at the loss of the other woman’s comfortable warmth at her back. “What are you talking about?”

Cassandra propped herself up a little. “Courtship. Surely you’ve heard of it?”

Lucy sat up and rubbed her hands over her face and yawned. “It was a very long day and I think I might still be asleep, but did you just say I can’t court you?”

Cassandra frowned in the dim light of the tent. “Yes. What of it?”

“You didn’t seem to welcome any romantic feelings I, ah, might have? And now this talk of courting. It’s just a bit… unexpected and formal?”

“And that is a bad thing?” said the Seeker, sitting up properly to face Lucy. “I cannot be properly courted?”

“Is that what you want?” Lucy pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her folded arms on them, keeping her gaze on the other woman.

“No.” Cassandra’s voice was hesitant.

They looked at each other for several long moments.

“I take it back,” said Cassandra passionately. “That is what I want. I want someone who sweeps me off my feet, who gives me flowers and reads me poetry by candlelight. I want the ideal. You are the Inquisitor and the Herald of Andraste. You cannot be that person.”

Lucy pulled the blankets over her shoulders, wrapping herself up as she regarded Cassandra. “I didn’t expect you to feel this way.”

Cassandra’s voice rose in volume. “I know what you see. I am a warrior. I am blunt and difficult and self-righteous. But my heart lies beneath all of that. It yearns for these things I cannot have. If you cannot see that, then desist in your attraction. What enamours you is but the surface.”

“I can be that person, Cassandra, because of course you have a heart.” Lucy knelt in front of the other woman, careful to maintain her cocoon of blankets. She took Cassandra’s hand and kissed her knuckles. “You won’t even give me a chance to try?”

“The world hinges on our actions. We face death at every turn, Inquisitor.” Cassandra turned her hand to stroke Lucy’s cheek. “I thought I’d lose you today, when your feelings for me made you reckless.”

“Facing death doesn’t change how I feel.” Lucy turned to kiss Cassandra’s palm.

“It changes everything,” Cassandra said softly.

Lucy leaned forward and cupped Cassandra’s face with a hand, tracing her scars with delicate fingertips. The Seekers lips parted and Lucy ran her thumb over Cassandra’s bottom lip. Lucy leaned forward so they were forehead to forehead. She brushed her lips briefly over the other woman’s, then pulled back to look at Cassandra’s face for permission to continue. The dark-haired woman hummed an assent, and bought her own hand up to the back of Lucy’s head, pulling her back in for a firmer kiss.

“Have you both quite finished?” Dorian’s voice drifted over from the tent next to theirs. “Clearly we’ve all learned a lot about ourselves today but some of us need our beauty sleep.”

“Especially when your tent buddy kicks,” said Varric darkly.

Lucy giggled into Cassandra’s mouth, and felt the other woman’s lips curve up in a smile. They snuggled into each other’s arms and finally fell asleep.

 

IV.

 

Lucy finished lighting the last candle in the Skyhold garden and let go of her magic. She smiled as Cassandra came into the garden, looked around and gasped.

Lucy bent down to pick up a book and started to read. “On aching branch do blossoms grow, the wind a hallowed breath. It carries the scent of honeysuckle, sweet as the lover’s kiss.” She made a dramatic flourish. “It brings the promise of more tomorrows, of sighs and whispered bliss.”

“You can’t be serious.” Cassandra’s voice was as dry as the Hissing Wastes.

Lucy grinned. “We don’t need to be serious every single minute, do we? I spent a small fortune on casks of ale so the Chargers would keep the garden clear for us. And Mother Giselle is very resistant to bribery I’ll have you know.”

Cassandra narrowed her eyes. “Are those Chantry candles?”

“Maybe,” said Lucy cagily.

“And that’s the poem you choose?”

“You have a better one in mind? I thought it was very romantic.”

“Carmenum di Amata. I thought this one was banned.” She gently removed the book from Lucy’s grasp and started to read. “Her lips on mine speak words not voiced, a prayer which travels down my spine like flames that shatter night. Her eyes reflect the heavens' stars, the Maker's light.”

“My body opens, filled and blessed, my spirit there; Not merely housed in flesh, but brought to life.” Lucy gave the blushing Cassandra a broad smile. “Shall we read another?”

Cassandra launched herself at Lucy and they tumbled together onto the blanket Lucy had spread out below the ancient apple tree that had stood sentinel over the Skyhold gardens since well before they had made the castle their home.

Lucy hardly noticed as they tugged each other’s clothes off, caught up in the delight of kissing her beautiful lover. Even the habitual cold of Skyhold didn’t touch her as she pressed her bare body against Cassandra’s and rolled them both so she straddled the other woman. She looked down at Cassandra, flushed and exquisite against the soft blanket.

“How do you wish to proceed?” said Cassandra, in the tone of someone directing troop movements.

Lucy dropped forward onto her hands and leaned her forehead against Cassandra’s. “I want to use my mouth on you,” she murmured. “Would you like that?”

Cassandra’s voice became decidedly breathy. “I… yes. I would like that a great deal.”

Lucy kissed her again then, running her hand down Cassandra’s body to stroke along the wetness at the crux of her legs. She moved down to gather the other woman’s sweetness on her tongue, enjoying Cassandra’s low moans of pleasure. She hummed in approval when Cassandra clutched her head in the throes of passion, pulling Lucy harder against herself, seeking the greater friction. Her cries as she peaked was the sweetest sound Lucy had ever heard.  

They lay side by side as Cassandra caught her breath. Lucy took Cassandra’s hand and stroked her thumb along the other woman’s calloused palm. She was happy, and the cares of the world seemed a lifetime away.  

Cassandra finally stirred and sat up, eyeing Lucy’s naked body with the expression of a warrior preparing for battle.

Lucy resisted the urge to smile. “We don’t have to do anything you are not comfortable with,” she said gently. “You could use your fingers on me, or we could cuddle while I touch myself.”

“I wish to give you the same pleasure that you bought me.”

“Alright. But it’s important that we keep communicating.”

Cassandra nodded briskly like the good soldier she was. “Of course.”

Lucy gave into the urge to grin then, and sat up so she could kiss Cassandra. She lost herself in the sensation of the kiss, until the other woman pushed her gently back onto the blanket.

The warrior wriggled down Lucy’s body and without preamble laved her tongue all the way up Lucy’s slit. Lucy stiffened and squeaked, but then relaxed as Cassandra squeezed her thigh apologetically and resumed her attentions more slowly.

She relaxed into the slippery feel of Cassandra’s tongue tracing circles over her clit. “Yes, just like that,” she murmured, tangling her fingers into Cassandra’s short hair.

Her own climax swept over her as Cassandra played her body with military precision, obviously paying attention to Lucy’s reactions.

The candles still flickered softly as the women lay entwined under the branches of the apple tree.

“They will say one of two things about me,” said Cassandra, pressing her warm naked body against Lucy’s side. “That I stood at the Inquisitors side, her protector and her lover. That it was meant to be. Or that I was lead from the paths of faith by a mad mage.”

Lucy leaned over and kissed Cassandra’s forehead. “Is this your idea of pillow talk?”

“If you wanted sweetness and light, you picked the wrong woman.”

Lucy lay back down and laughed. “Point taken. Though I think I’d prefer mad scholar to mad mage.”

“I will not let Corypheus win,” Cassandra murmured. “I will not let him take you from me.”

“I love you,” said Lucy, running her fingertips down Cassandra’s cheek.

“Here, tonight, I believe you.” Cassandra gave Lucy a soft smile. “And I... I love you too.”


End file.
